I'm Just a Guard
by Stagey
Summary: We're just guards. We don't want work for the Borgia. Some of us just needed the florins. The assassin doesn't care though. He kills us no matter what families we leave behind. No matter what our futures held for us.  Me? To him, I'm just a guard.
1. Vinaccio and Alberino

**This is my first _Assassins Creed_ story and I'm pretty excited. This story is form the viewpoints of the guards in Roma that Ezio always kills for sport. Don't say that's unassassin-like, because anyone who has played _Brotherhood_ has killed a group of talking or walking guards.  
>Enjoy, and review.<strong>

**Vinaccio Maberti**

Vinaccio Maberti was a large, burly man with a scruffy brown beard, a shaven head, and bad breath. His eyes were an angelic blue, and his lips were an odd pale compared to the rest of his body which was darkened by the sun and dirt that he always basked in. Despite his appearance, Vinaccio was excited. He had gotten a promotion from one of the Borgia top officials, and was spending his money in brothels all over beautiful Roma.

On this particular night, when he had just gotten off of his guard shift at _Il Colosseo_, Vinaccio considered going home and taking off his Borgia uniform to go to a particular brothel in the Centro district. He considered this, but realized that if he walked into the brothel in his armor, he wouldn't have to pay.

He grinned at this as he walked down a path, passing a broken aqueduct.

He should have gone home and taken off his armor and weapons.

If he had done that, he would have lived until he was fifty-four.

…

As he walked into the Centro district, Vinaccio felt his stomach grow hollow with unease. Looking around, Vinaccio saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Two groups of civilians passed each side of him as night kidnapped the afternoon. Buildings with few pieces of stone missing from their walls loomed over him. Vinaccio sighed and turned back around, tripping over a piece of unevenly laid cobblestone. Vinaccio regained his slow trudge and did not feel any sense of relief as his stomach grew much more hollower than before.

He put his hand over his common sword, which was still in its sheathe. This move gave him little to no comfort, and he kept on walking, jogging a little instead of walking.

Pushing a woman out of his way, Vinaccio felt his red Borgia cap fall off of his head. Turning around to retrieve it, Vinaccio found himself in a dark alley. He picked up his cap from the puddle that it had landed in.

''_Cazzo!_'' Swore Vinaccio, as he shook his cap, trying to rid it of the murky puddle-water. A few drops of the water sprayed unto his face and beard, which made Vinaccio even angrier. Throwing the cap down, he looked further down the alley and saw a dark figure moving towards him.

Peering in confusion, Vinaccio called out,

''_Ehi voi! Fuori di qui!_'' The figure kept on walking. The hollow feeling in Vinaccio's stomach grew even larger, and he reached for his sword.

The figure was now more viewable, and Vinaccio made it out to be a hooded man, pulling his crossbow from its sheathe on his back.

Crying out in fear, Vinaccio threw his sword at the man.

The man dodged nimbly out of the way, and Vinaccio swore that he saw the man smirk. Suddenly, the image of a hooded man on a poster that had been shot into the wall next to him by an arrow invaded Vinaccio's thoughts.

Vinaccio turned to the man and cried his final words,

''_Assassino!_''

Ezio Auditore leaped into the air, and dug his hidden blades into Vinaccio's neck.

After looting the body, Ezio carried it a great distance to the riverside by the Rosa in Fiore. He had avoided many guards just to get to the location.

Grinning, Ezio dropped Vinaccio's body into the dark water, watching it sink.

He then turned around and headed into the brothel.

**Alberino Ventrino**

Alberino Ventrino was young. Eighteen years old and eager to follow in his fathers footsteps as an agile guard.

He had strawberry blonde, curly hair, with two long bangs hanging into his ghost green eyes. He had the face of a young boy, which had made the recruiter for the Borgia guards look over him in skepticism,

''Eh... _Sei prossimo?_'' The Borgia recruiter had asked, curling his lips. When Alberino had revealed himself to be the son of the great, Dinomino Ventrino, the recruiter had accepted him with a wave of fear.

Alberino laughed as he remembered the memory that happened only two months before. He had become lost in his reverie. The other guard that was talking to him, Luvezio, continued his babble, unaware that Alberino was not listening.

Ignoring Luvezio, Alberino looked over the stone divider that separated him and the former from the two other guards in his patrol, Giletto and Oliverio, who were also having a conversation.

Alberino leaned back, as for he was not the one facing the wall that was part of the slanted tunnel that occasionally made people trip over its stairs.

It was a bright day. It always was in Roma.

Giletto leaned over the stone divider and spoke to Alberino, snapping the younger man out of his daydreaming,

''Hey _culo pigro_, me an Oliverio are going to get drinks at the next shift, want to come?''

Alberino shrugged and turned to Luvezio, who had now stopped talking and was listening eagerly, wanting to become part of the conversation. Luvezio was a year older than Alberino, but acted far younger than him. He had a small stubble of a beard and his Borgia tights looked baggy on his skinny legs. Alberino sighed and spoke to Luvezio,

''Are you mature enough to handle a drink?''

Luvezio nodded eagerly, the feeling of acceptance flooding over his face. Despite his thoughts of the man, Alberino couldn't help but feel some type of satisfaction for him. Then, with no warning, Luvezio fell back, a crossbow bolt in the middle of his chest.

Glancing around quickly, Alberino ran over to his dead comrade, checking for the cause of death, although he had seen it himself.

Giletto and Oliverio both ran up besides him, looking around for the killer. As Alberino stood up from Luvezio's body, he saw a figure holding a crossbow from a ledge at least ten meters from the ground.

Alberino pointed out the figure to his two remaining comrades, who had already seen him, and were now picking up stones to throw.

Giletto threw the first stone, which caught the figure, and he fell from the ledge, landing hard on the gray cobblestone.

Surrounding civilians were now pointing and jeering at Luvezio's dead body, Alberino, Giletto, and Oliverio.

The figure, who Alberino now made out to be a hooded man, was now getting up weakly, his white robes looking quite dusty.

Giletto cursed and shouted,

''_Assassino!_''

Ezio Auditore leaped at Giletto first, slashing him repeatedly with two mysterious blades that came from his hands. Giletto unsuccessfully tried to parry the assassin's blows, and was now withering on the floor, his neck bleeding a strong flow of crimson liquid.

Oliverio, the second agile guard of the patrol, was now slashing at the assassin, leaping back when the latter tried to retaliate.

The assassin managed to hit Oliverio with his sword, which appeared to have an eagle's beak as its hilt. Unfortunately for Oliverio, who had tried to attack the assassin again, the assassin was ready and countered easily, impaling the agile guard, killing him.

The assassin now turned to Alberino, who had dropped his weapon and was now cowering, begging for mercy,

''Please! I'm only doing my job, no? I have a family! Spare me!''

The assassin stared at the cowering Alberino for quite a while, knowing that he decided this guard's fate.

Then he simply turned around and blended into the crowd of whispering and fascinated civilians, leaving Alberino surrounded by the bodies of his dead comrades.

**That's all, I felt that I needed to give some translations to anyone who deosn't understand Italian.**

_**Roma.- **_**Rome.**

_**Il Colosseo.- **_**The Colosseum. **

_**Centro.- **_**Central.**

_**Cazzo.- **_**Fuck.**

_**Ehi Voi!- **_**Hey you!**

_**Fuori de qui!- **_**Get out of here!**

_**Assassino!- **_**Assassin!**

_**Sei prossimo?- **_**Are you next?**

_**Culo pigro.- **_**Lazy ass.**

**I'd like to thank the author who had given me the inspiration to write this, if I get enough reviews, I may write another chapter.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Giovanni Balnilla

**I've decided to keep writing this. It actually feels pretty good. Like it could be going somewhere, no?**

**Review and enjoy.**

**Giovanni Balnilla**

Giovanni Balnilla was an honest man. It matched his look. He was thirty-nine and had a goatee, which looked out of place with his icy blue eyes. His eyes sunk in, and his face was full of spots, but he had an honest personality.

He had worked for a blacksmith for many years, bringing in quite a salary. One hundred florins each day. It wasn't much to some, but for the Balnilla family, it was a blessing. Then the Borgia came into power. They closed all of the shops, including the one that Giovanni worked in, and forced men to join their army.

Giovanni had been grudgingly forced to join the Borgia after guards raided his house and threatened to slit his throat in front of his wife and children.

Today was the last day that Giovanni would speak to them again.

…

It was a sunny morning on the day that Giovanni had been killed. He awoke to his beautiful wife, Maria. She was shaking him rather brashly, as he stood in her way of making the bed. Giovanni grinned and grabbed her by the waist, as she stood over him.

They made love that morning, and after they finished, Maria looked at Giovanni, a look of outrage spreading across her face,

''_Cazzo_, Gio!'' She cursed, pointing at the damp sheets, ''Now I must wash them, dry them, and make the bed!''

Giovanni smiled and kissed her.

After getting dressed in his Borgia uniform, Giovanni told his two children goodbye and kissed them both on the forehead. His happy mood changed when he went for his helmet and chest plate.

As Giovanni put them on, he put his sword in its sheathe on his red Borgia tights.

As he walked out of his home, Giovanni leaped onto his horse, Bella, and rode off towards the Antico district.

Riding, despite the conditions he was under, was Giovanni's favorite thing to do as a horseman.

Bella's white mane blew majestically in the wind as Giovanni leaned down to get maximum speed.

The day passed quickly as Giovanni carried messages from each patrol of Borgia guards and politicians.

By the time he delivered the last message, it was night, and Giovanni was exhausted and was ready to go home in the Campagna.

As he rode by _Il Colosseo_, Giovanni heard steps coming from behind of him. He looked around and saw a hooded man jump from a horse and land on Giovanni's back.

Giovanni tried to shake the man off, but it was too late. The assassin had already sunk his hidden blades into Giovanni's neck, and threw him off of Bella.

Giovanni's body was picked up by two patrolling Borgia guards and dumped in the Tiber.

His family never knew of his death.

**I originally planned to have two men in this chapter like the previous, but decided against it. Heads up, the next one will be about a crossbowman! **

**Review, and here are a list of the Italian words,**

_**Cazzo,- **_**Fuck,**

_**Il Colosseo.- **_**The Colosseum.**


	3. Narsete Russo

**I took a break from this to write a sorta shameful crack story. It was intended to be a joke, a very bad one. Ah well, I'm back to this, so uh... review!**

**Narsete Russo**

Narsete Russo was a normal crossbowman. He had a fluffy red beard and a nasty attitude. Especially to those damn thieves that always stole his money and ran around the rooftops. He didn't even want to think about the Borgia messengers. He was not perfect in terms of morals, but he was no Borgia sympathizer, so whenever he saw the family's wretched messengers invading _his _rooftop, he would be sure to pump four shots of bolts with iron tips into them.

On this particular afternoon, Narsete felt the need to take a break. As he searched for a ladder, he saw _Roma's _beautiful landscape,

''_Mio dio..._'' He muttered, observing the cities rooftops and the Campagna's farmland. Narsete loved to paint, and he couldn't help think that this sight that he saw would make a great scene. Despite his personality, Narsete loved painting sunsets and sunrises. He would sometimes dip a bolt in some ink in his spare time and paint the landscape or buildings surrounding him. His fellow comrades would call him names such as,

'_'__La feccia patetico da Milano!''_ or,

''_Vecchia signora!''_

Narsete himself could remember when his father had called him similar things in _Milano. _As he climbed down a ladder, Narsete remembered the vague memory. It had been thirty years...

_The Russo family is a wealthy noble family in Milano. On one particular day, on top of the Palazzo Russo, Narsete, his face spotted with acne that he had been teased for at school, was painting the sunset as the shadows of clay-tiled rooftops turned the southwards courtyard of the Palazzo dark._

_''Narsete! Narsete! Get down here, stupido idiota!''_

_Narsete heard his father's cries and quickly threw his canvas and brushes into the secret compartment under one of the tiles of the Palazzo's roof._

_Taking the ladder down, Narsete was greeted by his father, who was holding a whip,_

_''What were you doing up there?''_

_Narsete shivered at the sight of the whip and touched his scar on his back lightly,_

_''Niente, padre.''_

_Narsete's father, Benvolio, chuckled and furiously beat his son with the whip, spit and white foam bubbling from his mouth. He beat Narsete until it was midnight - and when a sympathizing neighbor called the guards._

_Narsete's wounds wouldn't go away until a decade later, and anytime anything or anyone touched those scars, he shivered, a constant reminder of his father's disgust and disapproval of his son's talent._

Narsete shook the memory from his head and raised an eyebrow when he thought that he saw a flash of white from the corner of his eye. Hauling himself up back onto the ladder, Narsete climbed to the top of the building, a scowl building on his face. If it was one of those thieves, he would shoot a bolt straight at their head. Getting his mahogany crossbow from his back, Narsete leaped onto the top of the building, panting.

His striped cap fell off, and he bent down to pick it up. As he did this, he saw a Borgia messenger run by, whimpering in fear.

Growling, Narsete shot at the Borgia messenger. He then saw a white robed man shooting at the messenger with a crossbow as well. Maybe another frustrated person, sick of the messengers running through the city, bumping past anyone and everyone with complete disregard.

Narsete aimed carefully as the messenger tried to cross onto a ledge. He grinned in satisfaction as the bolt flew straight into the head of the red robed man. As the Borgia messenger fell down, dead, Narsete raised his eyebrow as the white robed man began to pat down the dead body, looting it. Narsete had just begun to sheathe his crossbow, but when he saw the looting, he unsheathed it again and warned the man,

''Hey, _amico!_ Get down from here!'' The white robed man got up from the looting and grinned at Narsete.

The crossbowman gasped in realization as the white robed man, in one fluid motion, got his crossbow from his back, and shot Narsete. Gasping, Narsete's legs buckled from underneath him, and he crumpled down, not believing that his life was over.

As the white robed man came over and looted him, Narsete's vision started to grow darker, and darker, and darker.

His last thoughts... He couldn't die now. He needed to paint... He needed to be the next _Da Milano._ He would never be that... He would die right there. Funny... How time seems to go quickly when you're bleeding out. How was it dusk already?

Narsete succumbed to his wounds that night, his body shipped towards Milan, and buried next to his father behind the _Palazzo Russo_, who like his son, also had a crossbow bolt embedded in his throat.

**Translations**

_**Roma.- Rome**_

_**Campagna.-Campaign**_

_**Mio Dio.-My God**_

_**La feccia pateticoda Milano!-The pathetic scum from Milan!**_

_**Vecchia signora.-Old lady**_

_**Milano.-Milan**_

_**Palazzo Russo.-Palace Russo**_

_**Stupido idiota!-Stupid idiot!**_

_**Niente padre.-Nothing father**_

_**Amico.-Friend**_


	4. Vincento Martella

**I've decided to keep writing this. It actually feels pretty good. Like it could be going somewhere, no?**

**Review and enjoy.**

**Vincento Martella**

Vincento Martella a a large man with green eyes and blonde hair.

He wasn't quite intelligent and had joined the Borgia because he liked touching sharp objects- like axes.

Especially axes.

He was a brute, covered with heavy armor which made him appear larger than he really was. On this particular night. It was probably because he had been forced to patrol around one particular wide Borgia tower after tripping and nearly crushing a senator while taking him to the Castel Sant'Angelo.

Vincento took a sharp breath and threw his helmet off. He didn't even want to serve the Borgia anymore. He would give all the gold in the world just to retire and spend the rest of his nights in a bar and relax.

But destiny would not make poor Vincento rest. He was sitting next to Agostino Alonzo, a fat brute who kept passing gas.

As he wiped his face with sweat with a dirty hand, Vincento heard a cry. A sharp and bold cry mixed with the most obvious of fear.

''_Assassino_!''

Agostino shot a look at Vincento and struggled to his feet, grabbing for his axe. Vincento leaped to his feet, picked up his helmet and put it on. The sharp horizontal space in his helmet that left room for sight was a poor excuse for a visor, but Vincento ran to the direction of the cry. As both brutes ran around the corner of the tower that they had been stationed outside of, Vincento saw a flash of white and a splatter of blood.

Taking a breath, Vincento and Agostino raced into the fray.

The assassin was in the middle of five guards. A seeker, two militia, and the two brutes themselves. Agostino swung his axe at the assassin, but the white robed man grabbed the axe, quickly disarming him, and while poor Agostino was trying to recover his balance, he ended up instead with an axe to the head.

The two militia guards exchanged horrified looks and dropped their swords. Quickly looking for escape routes, they both fled, crying for their mothers.

''_Si scopa pigri codardi!_'' Cried Vincento at the fleeing guards. Now it was only the seeker and Vincento, both were circling the assassin, who wore a smug smirk on his face.

The seeker struck first. The assassin easily took the spear from him and then impaled him.

Vincento watched in an uneasy awkwardness as the seeker toppled backwards, spear still in him. Slowly and grudgingly, the seeker slid all the way down on his spear, which was still standing upright.

Vincento finally pulled his eyes from the gruesome sight and flashed a look of pure menace at the assassin, although Vincento's face was hidden by his helmet.

The assassin grinned at him and said gloatingly,

''Come on you fat pig! Hit me!''

Vincento, an angry man who never took goading well, swung his axe act the arrogant assassin and cried in satisfaction as he hit the assassin, who grunted and had to leap out of they way to avoid the second blow.

Vincento, much more confident in his abilities due to his previous strikes, raised his axe to strike again, but was left awestruck as the assassin swiftly disarmed him and brought the axe up, grinning.

Right before the sudden rush of pain hit the side of his face, Vincento's troubled life flashed before his eyes.

As he lay, dying on the reddening grass, Vincento could not help but smile. He wouldn't be retiring, but on a wage of four florins an hour, at least he'd finally stop serving the Borgia.

Taking his last breath, Vincento silently thanked the assassin.

**Get ready for the Seeker next chapter! Review you guys!**

**Review, and here are a list of the Italian words,**

_**Assassino!- **_**Assassin.**

_**Si scopa pigri codardi!- **_**You lazy cowards fucks!**


	5. Dante Ottaviano

**I've decided to keep writing this. It actually feels pretty good. Like it could be going somewhere, no?**

**Review and enjoy.**

**Dante Ottaviano**

Dante Ottaviano didn't like searching in hay all day. The disgusting smell of horse always got caught in his nose. Then he was stuck with the odor until he went home, changed, and went to one of the public showers. Then he would have to go home and change again.

Thinking of this made Dante furious, and he drove his spear into the pile of hay and pulled it out.

It was a petty job. Going around _Roma _and just driving his spear into the hay. And it was all thanks to this paranoia about an _Assassino _in the city.

He spit into the hay and nodded at his patrol comrade, Jacopo, who was waiting for Dante to finish searching the hay.

Together they moved on to the next pile of hay which was around sixteen feet away.

Sighing, Dante stopped for a breath. He was alarmingly tired even though he did the same route for over an entire year.

''_Cazzo la pasta_...'' Groaned Dante to Jacopo, who had stopped in alarm. Jacopo nodded and leaned onto one of the large pillars that were the few signs of the once great city of _Roma_.

Catching his breath, Dante walked towards the other pile of hay, heat inside and outside of his armor making the walk unbearable. It seems that the beautiful city that Dante worked in was in the middle of a heat wave and all of the Borgia guard's rations had run out.

Guards had to drink from the filthy _Fiume Tevere _until more fresh water rations arrived. On this particular day, Dante felt far too sick to even think of the water and stuck his spear into the hay.

Nothing.

He pulled his spear out and groaned. His helmet seemed as if it were on fire. He turned back to Jacopo, who was being hassled by a rough crowd who were clawing at the ground greedily.

Dante raised an eyebrow and saw a hooded white figure throwing... no... _florins?_

The dumb bastard was throwing gold into the crowd!

Jacopo pushed some of the greedy people off of him and Dante saw what happened next with disbelief.

The hooded figure moved into the crowd and stabbed Jacopo. Dante shouted and the greedy citizens began to stare in disbelief as Jacopo began to slash at them with his sword.

''Jacopo!'' Shouted Dante, running towards his comrade, ''What the hell is wrong with you, eh?''

Jacopo's sword caught Dante's spear and the latter had to leap back to avoid future blows.

Dante began to search for the hooded figure. No doubt he had poisoned poor Jacopo who was now crawling on the ground, hand extended in some form of wanted help form the watching people.

''Rest in peace...'' Muttered several people before walking away to their normal business.

Dante stopped his search and looked at Jacopo. He had no time to grieve now, the other patrol would take care of Jacopo.

Shaking his head, Dante moved on towards the other hay pile.

As he walked, he though about the hooded figure who had poisoned Jacopo. Who was he? An assassin?

Of course not. An assassin in _Roma_? That was preposterous.

And yet still, wasn't the signature color of the assassins white? Weren't more murders of important Roman individuals becoming more frequent? And all this paranoia about an assassin in the city. Could it be true?

Dante stuck his spear into the hay and pulled it out, finding nothing there.

He heard a whistle and a figure in white leaped at him. Dante barely dodged the attack.

An assassin.

Lunging his spear at the assassin, Dante readied himself for all future attacks. No more hooded figures came.

The assassin pulled out a dagger and swung at Dante, who dodged nimbly out of the way. In retaliation, Dante plunged his spear into the assassin, who was killed instantly.

Dante huffed in shock. An attempt was just made on his life by an assassin, and he had survived?

Fate would not let Dante think like that for long.

He stared at the body and the citizens who were running away, screaming in fear.

Whatever assassin that was, it must have been a novice. Dante had heard of more skilled assassins, like Ezio Auditore or Giovanni Auditore, the latter being hung in _Firenze_.

Dante got over his shock quickly and moved on to the next hay pile, a certain swagger around him now He had just killed an assassin.

Wait until the boys at the bar hear about that.

Dante was about to stick his spear in the hay when a hand appeared from inside of it. The hand grabbed onto Dante's chest plate and another hand appeared, a sharp blade at the bottom of it.

The blade sunk deep into Dante's chest and his body was dragged into the hay.

It took two months to finally discover the body. It had taken fourteen horses over the course of those two months to finally eat enough hay for Dante's body to be discovered.

**I'm thinking of two more chapters before ending this story. The last chapter will be a combination of all guards and will have the POV's of Ezio and numerous guards. Review you guys!**

**Review again, and here are a list of the Italian words,**

_**Cazzo la pasta.- **_**Fucking pasta.**

_**Fiume Tevere.- **_**Tiber River**

**_Firenze._- Florence**


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